Fasten Your Hair With A Golden Pin, And Bind Up Every Wandering Tress; I Bade My Heart Build These Poor Rhymes: It Worked At Them, Day Out, Day In, Building A Sorrowful Loveliness Out Of The Battles Of Old Times. You Need But Lift A Pearl-Pale Hand, And Bind Up Your Long Hair And Sigh; And All Men'S Hearts Must Burn And Beat; And Candle-Like Foam On The Dim Sand, And Stars Climbing The Dew-Dropping Sky, Live But To Light Your Passing Feet.